


Mr. Mackey's Program for Troubled Youth

by mediocrewriterboy



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, M for cursing and dark-ish themes, M/M, Mentions of Arson, Okay so I can't do any justice in these tags, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, because I've fallen in too deep, high school age, mentions of murder too oops, staig, they're all like 16-17, theyre juveniles basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrewriterboy/pseuds/mediocrewriterboy
Summary: Sharon has had enough of her son being brought home in handcuffs and vomit down the front of his shirt. Instead of sending him off to a juvenile hall like all of her friends suggested, she decides to send Stan to a farm program that guarantees to rid troubled young teens of their delinquent behaviors.Once there, Stan comes to meet an interesting group of teens that carry even more baggage than he previously had.





	1. Down on The Farm

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don't know it's easier to explain in my head

Stan glared out the window as the prison bus rattled down the dirt street, eyes slightly glazed over while the acres of land and cows and mountains passed by him for the past hour. His PSP sat idle in his hands, which he was just barely able to hold between the short link of the handcuffs he bore.

The prison bus and handcuffs were overkill, in Stan's opinion. He wasn't even going to prison, mostly for the fact he wasn't eighteen yet. Instead of being sent to juvie, his mom had gone the route of sending him off to some behavioral camp-thing. Stan wasn't paying attention to it when the judge explained it to him, he only remembered the head-splitting hangover and then throwing up when the judge smacked his gavel.

The bus puttered to a stop and Stan waited for the driver to walk back and undo his foot and wrist cuffs, nodding his head towards the front wordlessly when he was done. He packed his PSP away and zipped his bag, rubbing his wrists after shouldering all three. 

"Good luck, kid," the driver said, opening the door as he lit a cigarette. 

"Thanks," Stan replied and stepped off the bus. He watched it putter down the road, kicking up a steady trail of dust behind it as it went. He turned to look at the house, not too run down but not in the best of shape, either. The large red barn behind it appeared to be in better shape than the house.

He moved to take a step when two other boys went running by him, one laughing and the other shouting. He opened his mouth to call out to them when his shoulder was pushed and he fell face-first into a mud puddle.

Stan picked his head up and blinked away mud just in time to see a third boy in a blue hat turn and raise his middle finger, trotting backwards before turning back to go after his friends.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he cursed and threw his bags off of himself before they could get dirty.

"Oh, dude, weak. Are you okay? Craig is a giant asshole sometimes." 

Stan turned to see yet another boy, this one stooping over with a hand on his knee and the other held out for him. "Thanks," he said, taking the hand to help be lifted. He wiped his face off with his hands and shook them dry, scowling all the while. "What the hell was that about?" He asked, looking off where the trio went.

The other shrugged. "Like I said, Craig's just like that sometimes. He usually keeps to his friends. Anyway, I'm Kyle, you must be Stan, right? Public and underage intoxication." Kyle grinned as he shook Stan's muddy hand.

"How do you know that?" Stan barked.

"Dude, don't worry, Mr. Mackey told us about you. Come on! I'll show you around."

Stan narrowed his eyes at Kyle briefly before pulling his bags back on over himself. "So, is it just you four here? What even happens here?" 

Kyle pushed his hands into the pockets of his flannel, looking over and smiling almost in amusement to Stan. "There's more of us, dude. Six others, excluding you and I, also Clyde, Token, and Craig." He explained first, stepping up to hold the door for Stan. "We do farm chores, basically. You get used to it. I'll show you all the ropes tomorrow since we're done for today." 

"Six more? Where are they?" Stan asked, following Kyle's example and taking his shoes off.

"Around," he answered vaguely. "He's here, Mr. Mackey!" He called out then turned to Stan and held a hand out. "Hand me one of those, we'll set your bags down in the room and then you can talk to Mr. Mackey." 

Stan handed off one of his bags with a muttered thanks, looking around the rather bland interior. There were hardly any pictures hung around the walls, only a few paintings of flowers with the same two signatures on them "SM" and "NK." Before he could look closer at one, Kyle started to speak again. "All of our rooms are in the basement, so we don't disturb Mr. Mackey. There should be an empty one..." He tutted to himself before pushing the basement door open and leading Stan down.

It was just as basic in the basement as the rest of the house was. Beige carpet, white walls, and trim. There wasn't a tv in sight. "You guys can't have video games here? Or TV?" He asked Kyle as he poked his head into several rooms, flipping off someone inside of one.

"Huh? Oh, no, we're supposed to be here to "clean our minds with chores and discipline," or some shit like that. Honestly, I haven't noticed any difference, I'm just kind of here until my sentence is over." Kyle explained, finally stepping into a room and setting Stan's bag on the bare bed. 

"Why are you here? You seem pretty... normal." Stan observed, eyeing Kyle over briefly.

He held up his hands, showing them off, dark pink, bubbles and gnarled white scars curling around them and down into the sleeves of his jacket. "Arson," he smiled then put his hands back in his pockets. "Get set up and I'll go grab you some sheets." He said and bumped Stan's shoulder on his way out.

Stan felt his eyebrows draw together and he looked over his shoulder to where Kyle had left. He had just said it so casually! He felt a shudder go up his back before starting to unzip his bags to start putting his clothes into the dresser. 

The room was as essential as could be: a bed, dresser, and a nightstand. There wasn't even a closet. He dropped his PSP, its charger, his phone, and earbuds into the drawer of the bedside table then shoved his bags underneath the bed. 

Kyle helped him put the equally bland sheets onto the bed, but at least they were flannel, and the comforter was thick. "All set up? Let's go, dude." He said, already turning to walk out and leaving Stan to stumble after him.

"Wait-- arson? You set something on fire?" He couldn't help but ask, watching Kyle frown since the first time he had started talking to him.

"Dude, drop it. You just got here, I'm not gonna go sharing what happened. You'll have better luck asking the new kid." Kyle answered a bit grimly. 

Stan tilted his head. "Aren't I the new kid?"

"Yeah, but this kid's name is new kid. Well. Not really, no one knows his name; he's mute and no one knows ASL except Scott Malkinson, but he's, like, sworn to secrecy." Kyle explained with a flap of his hand before it went back into his pocket. 

'I know ASL,' Stan wanted to say but he held his mouth shut in favor of following Kyle back through the bland, boring house. At least the view was pretty. The back wall was one big window, giving a perfect view of the mountains, barn, and grazing horses. 

His view was cut by a wall and he almost bumped into Kyle had he not turned fast enough.

Kyle knocked on the door. "He's ready now, Mr. Mackey! See you at dinner, dude." He gave a thumbs up and walked down the hallway, leaving Stan by himself in front of the thick, dark door.

He couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive as he waited, but the man behind the door was probably the least threatening person Stan had ever seen, his voice and demeanor even more so. "You must be Stan, right? Now come on in, m'kay? Let's have a little talk."

It had to have been a joke, there was no way anyone truly talked like how this Mr. Mackey was talking. Stan sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and put his hands between his knees, watching the weirdly skinny man sit down.

"I understand that you're here because your mom decided this would be a better choice than a juvie hall, is that right?" Mr. Mackey asked, folding his hands on top of his desk.

"Yeah," Stan answered as he glanced around the room. It was a little cluttered unlike the rest of the man's house, with more hanged pictures and a few degrees, and another painting by the same "SM" and "NK."

"M'kay, great, great. I like to think that this would be a better choice as well. You see, being out here away from all that technology and city noise is really good for you young men, m'kay? And the manual labor will do you some good to work out your, um, alcoholic tendencies." Mr. Mackey said after flipping through some papers and Stan squeezed his knees briefly. 

"Yeah, I guess," he answered tersely. He was getting sick of hearing about his "drinking problem," his "alcoholic tendencies," and his "addictive behavior." It shouldn't have been a surprise when he did what he did, yet here he was in an office with a pencil-thin man in some farmland deep in Colorado. 

"Well, okay! I don't have much to tell you, Kyle will be kind of like your teacher through all of this, m'kay. He's probably the best at showing all you new kids the ropes but do be careful because his temper is a little bit short, m'kay?" Mr. Mackey asked, giving a small, tight lipped smile to Stan, who had to wipe a look of shock off his face.

"M'kay, Mr. Mackey, I'll do just that." Stan answered as he stood up.

"M'kay, I'll see you boys at eight for dinner. Bye, now." Mr. Mackey said as Stan shut the door behind him.

"What the fuck..." He groaned to himself and ran his hands over his face and into his hair under his beanie, pulling at it before he straighter up. He fixed his beanie and cautiously padded around the short hallway back to the living room, turning the corner only to bump into someone. "Shit, shit, my bad. Are you--"

"AGH! Watch where you're going, man! Jesus Christ, can't a guy just walk to his room without trying to start a fight?" A short, jerky, "ah!" followed after the boy's words and Stan watched as a tall, skinny, blond walked down the hallway to the basement door.

"Sorry," Stan said to his back and shook his head, looking towards the large window at the back of the room. He didn't know what to do. Dinner wasn't for another two hours and Kyle, the one nice person he had met so far, had vanished somewhere, leaving Stan to fend for himself. 

He thought of going back to his new room and kill some time on his PSP, maybe see who Kyle had flipped off earlier, but he wanted to snoop around through the main floor, too. 

"Well, well, you must be the new guy, right?" 

If Stan got cornered by one more new voice, he was going to force his head through the nearest wall. 

Stan turned around to see yet another boy, but this one was nothing like he had seen yet. He was very... large. Round. 

Fat.

He couldn't help a small grimace before reaching to shake the other's offered hand, wiping off the greasy feeling it left behind. "Yeah, I'm Stan. I just got here not too long ago." 

"Cool, whatever. I'm Eric Cartman, aka the only cool person at this hillbilly shithole." This Eric Cartman said, and by his words alone Stan didn't believe him one bit.

"Right..."

"Anyway, I just came to tell you that if you want to have any sort of fun here, you'll hang out with--"

"Me!"

Stan yelped as his head was pulled down by an arm around the back of his neck, a muffled voice proclaiming his own say. He looked up to see another boy -- Stan was feeling safe to say there were only boys, here -- with a hood around his head and mouth, but wearing a short sleeved shirt. 

"Don't hang out with this fat fuck, he's the last person you'd ever want to be seen around. You're better off with me." The muffled boy said, smiling if the crinkles by his eyes were any indication.

"Shut up, Kenny!" Eric whined, pulling at Stan's arm. "No one wants to hang out with a worthless druggie like you, needle scars." 

Kenny only smiled again and patted his arm, where several dark, dotted scars littered the inside of his elbow. "Gotta do what you gotta do, man. Everyone loves to hang out with me. Don't worry, Staniel, I'll be sure to keep you safe from this ogre." He laughed.

"Don't call me that, it's just Stan." Technically Stanley but he did not want to go by that, here. Or ever. "What are you two here for?" He could guess why Kenny was there, but he didn't want to automatically assume, either. 

"Drugs for me, Fatass over here killed some people." Kenny explained, still with his arm around Stan's neck and holding him to his chest. 

Eric rolled his eyes. "I didn't kill anyone, Kenny! I just fed Scott Tenorman his parents is all." He explained as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

A look of shock and disgust came over Stan's face. "You did what?" He asked, pulling his arm to his chest and stepping back closer into Kenny, if that was possible. They were just tricking Stan, right? There was no way they would send someone who did that to a dorky farm, he should have been sent right to prison for that, right? 

"Tenorman deserved it, alright?" Was all Eric defended himself with.

"Enough with that, you're gonna make Stan sick before dinner. C'mon with me, Stan, I'll show you around the house! Kyle usually shows around the land, so I take this part up." Kenny explained and patted Stan's shoulder as he stared between he and Eric in shock. 

Just where was he?


	2. Announcement type thing

Uh so I can't write chapter-by-chapter fics to save my life so I think I'm gonna scrap this but keep the plot! Just make it into a random bunch of one shots, all surrounding the main "behavioral farm camp" thing and Staig 

Here's to (hopefully) a new start (^◇^;)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it? Oof. Maybe this will be the one time I write a multi chapter fic


End file.
